C'mon, Little Man
by Novacaine Child
Summary: My first boosh fic and nothing substantial really. Just something i wrote in an emo mood. Nevertheless, dolls, please R&R! Rated T for one sexual-ish reference.


**Hey there, Boosh fans! I usually write Sweeney Todd fic, and this is my first ever attempt at a boosh story… I hope you like it. Bear in mind it's so emo because I wasn't feeling great when I was writing. This fic IS complete, but happier ones will follow… At the moment I'm writing a HowardXOld Gregg fic, which might be interesting… Anyhow, I digress. Sorry for miseryness. Please, please R&R, if you do I'll love you forever and… I won't set Eleanor on you. And believe me, she's keen to find you. (She says hellloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo and sends her love.)**

**WARNING: Slash. Not sexual. This is also my first fic not rated M. But it contains people having gay thoughts etc, so if you don't like it, A) Don't read, and B) Stop being a homophobic creep. Pleasantries aside now, as we really must get on.**

**This story: Vince reflects on his feelings for his best friend, and plays up to the persona Howard needs as best he can. Miseryness etc, and no major plot really, just something to tug your heartstrings a little, if you like that kinda thing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Mighty Boosh or any related characters. Believe me, if I did, it would be a lot dirtier. A LOT. Oh yeah, in my dreams, Howard and Vince do a lot more than KISS on that roof… but that's another fic for another time. :)**

_"Howard?"_

_"Mmm?"_

_"I don't wanna die."_

_"Hey! C'mon little man. It's gonna be okay."_

_"...Is it?"_

_"Not really. In fact, we're gonna be frozen in the most horrific way possible... But the main thing is we had good times, yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Good times, yeah? Remember the zoo? Yeah? Remember the sticklebacks?"_

_"Ahh... _

_Stickleback, stickleback, _

_stickleback, bourgeois, _

_crusty in the bingo hall, _

_running like a china whore,_

_mm, pâté, masala, _

_mm, pâté, masala,_

_Kentish Town, Kentish Town, yeah, _

_Kentish Town, Kentish Town, no..."_

_"Vince... this is difficult for me, but I feel as though I should say this... I love you Vince."_

_Vince had laughed._

_"What're you doing?"_

_"Nothing."_

_"Are you laughing?"_

_"No."_

_"You better not be laughing at me now. I'm telling you I love you. How dare you laugh at me?"_

_"You made me laugh!"_

_"That is so humiliating."_

_"You just caught me off guard!"_

_"Really."_

_"Yeah, it was outta the blue!"_

_"Well, I'm telling you I love you and you're laughing at me!"_

_"Well, I love you!"_

_"You don't love me."_

_"I do!"_

_"You're just saying that because I said it to you. It doesn't work. It doesn't mean anything!"_

_"No, I love you!"_

_"No, you don't!"_

Vince was running over the conversation again. They'd been in the Tundra, of all places, another of Howard's schemes. About to die. Vince hadn't really cared too much. Whatever happened, Howard was there, ready to die with him, ready to journey to the next plain by his side. But his polar bear pen-friend had knocked the Black Frost unconscious, and freed them both. Howard had been so grateful. Vince almost strangled the big white bitch. And now, back in his everyday life, Vince couldn't get Howard's declaration out of his head. It played on a loop in his head, again and again and_ again_, endlessly tormenting him. At the time, he'd laughed. Laughed in Howard's face when he'd confessed his love, always the sunshine kid. Always smiling. Always the happy one, gently teasing his friend.

Inside, he was screaming.

_Because Howard didn't mean it. He didn't love Vince. At least, not in the way that Vince loved him._

Vince rewinded his thoughts. Hit the mental play button. Listened with growing despair to Howard's voice, and to his own voice. To the subtle notes of misery.

_"You don't love me."_

_"I do!"_

_"You're just saying that because I said it to you. It doesn't work. It doesn't mean anything!"_

But that's just where Howard had been wrong. Vince had never spoken more truthfully. He loved him more than anything. More than being the head of Shoreditch Elite, more than Gary Newman... Hell, more even than Jagger! He groaned and put his head in his hands.

Howard walked into the room. Vince looked up quickly, blinking tears away and forcing a bright smile.

"Heya, Howard! Where've you been?"

"Jazzercise, I told you!" Howard seemed agitated. Vince's heart twisted with pain. He wanted Howard to be nice to him.

"Sorry. I don't think I was listening. _Cheekbone _arrived as you went and there was an article about me in the middle! The photo was genius! Really got my good side!" Vince struck a sexy pose, pouting. "You wanna see?"

"No. There's more to life than being in stupid magazines, Vince."

_Don't I know it._

"Like what?" asked Vince, pulling a confused face, playing up to his shallow persona. Being the person that Howard needed him to be.

_Love me._

"Have you ever heard of success, Vince? Being successful, yeah? Like me, with my jazzercise club?"

Vince chuckled, feeling his heart sink to his (orange, glittery, wedge heeled) trainers.

"As if you're successful! Who's in your jazzercise club? Two, maybe three people? Not even Lester Cornflake goes to that. It's well lame, Howard."

Howard glared at him. Vince flinched, hating mocking him, knowing he had to.

"Lester_ Corncrake _does come sometimes, I'll have you know, Sir! And there are _five_ members of the jazzercise club."

Vince smiled teasingly, feeling sick, and made an exaggerated gesture to show his surprise.

"Ooh, five... Still hardly what you'd call a success though."

"Look, just shut it."

Vince was silent for a moment. He'd managed to be Howard's shallow, teasing mate again. But guilt was gnawing at him, and his heart was aching. He wanted to be nice to Howard. He wanted to sweep him into his arms and whisper sweet things into his ear, stroke his wispy brown hair away from his face and gently press their lips together...

He shook his head rapidly, trying to free himself of the thoughts that would surely drive him crazy. He looked at Howard again, who was sighing heavily and looking down into his mug of tea. Common sense told him to stay quiet, but instinct insisted that something was wrong with Howard and that Vince had to know about it.

"Howard, are you all right?"

"Yeah, little man. I'm fine. Just tired."

_Little man_. Vince loved it when Howard called him that. It made him feel protected. Cherished.

"Sure?"

"Mmmm."

"Kay. Well. Um... You wanna do something then?"

"Like what?"

"Dunno." _Me? _"That Jurgen Haabemaaster documentary you wanted to watch is on soon."

"Oh yeah!" Howard's eyes lit up. "Great! What're you gonna do while I watch it?"

Vince shrugged. He knew what he was gonna do. He was gonna go to his room, sob into his pillow for an hour because Howard didn't want him, jerk off over him once or twice, then get it together and re-apply his makeup. He never lost his sparkle, not in front of Howard.

"Probably read _cheekbone_, the next one's due in..." He looked at his watch. "Twenty two minutes."

Howard smiled fondly at him and ruffled his hair.

_Oh God, I love your hand in my hair…_

"I didn't say you could touch my hair!" Vince complained convincingly. Howard rolled his eyes and called a bored apology as he went next door to switch on the TV. Vince half considered going after him, then ditched the idea. He couldn't handle being with him any longer tonight. He put his head in his arms and wept silently, to the soundtrack of Howard happily scat singing from the living room.

*****

"Vince?"

A voice. Howard's. A hand on his shoulder shaking him. What? Oh... he must've fallen asleep at the table. How long had he been there? He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, hardly able to look at Howard for fear of bursting into tears again.

"Hey there, little man. You fell asleep. I was gonna see if you wanted a cup of tea before the docume... Hey Vince?"

"Yeah?" asked Vince, blearily.

"Why d'you look like Mrs Gideon did after I punched her in the face?"

"What??" Vince whipped a mirror from his pocket and winced as he looked into it. Howard was right. His eyeliner had smudged everywhere, right around his eyes. Oh God.

"You haven't been crying, have you, little man?" The concern in Howard's voice made Vince's bottom lip quiver perilously.

"No," he insisted, biting his lip to stop it trembling. Howard looked at him hard, then pulled out a chair.

"Oh, Vince. What's the matter?"

Vince looked away.

"It's not your hair is it? You're not going bald? Oh God, is it Newman? Is he quitting music?"

"No," muttered Vince impatiently. He was so SICK of Howard thinking that this stupid, STUPID insignificant stuff mattered so much to him. "Nothing like that."

"Then what? C'mon, little man. You can tell me."

Vince shook his head. He couldn't. He could never tell Howard, because it would never make a difference. Howard would never want him to be more than a friend. Never love him as more than a friend. He sniffed, stood up, and went silently to his room.

In the kitchen, Howard sighed deeply. If only Vince knew how much he wanted him just to be happy. If only he loved Howard back, he could make all of the pain go away.

**So there you are, Boosh fans! Please leave a review, it will make my day, and I'll be keen to write you more, happier fic… :)**

**Beebee xx**

**PS. This fic was posted before I'd proof read properly, on spur of the moment. I've now taken it back and edited it. "Paul" Newman WAS supposed to be "Gary" Newman, sorry for ditzy-ness on my part, it's now corrected. Thanks to all who pointed that out. :)**


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